


Somnambulist

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-18
Updated: 2007-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memory is a maze of secrets, and the key to unlocking them comes from an unlikely source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

_So little joy, so little joy, it's complicated  
I feel I'm stumbling in the dark, somnambulated  
I feel my heart seeking the sparks, and prayin' for love  
Love, love, praying for love_  
"Somnambulist (Simply Being Loved)" by BT

 

She woke up in a strange room, on a strange bed. The ceiling above her head was patterned, carved to look like flowers. She turned her head to the side, and saw the floral wallpaper, the dark mahogany furniture. Turning her head to the other side, she saw the bay window with its window seat, the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze from the open window pane.

None of this looked familiar.

She sat up, the world swimming around in circles. She closed her eyes, clamping her jaws tight to keep from throwing up. She didn't know why she was so dizzy. She didn't know why she was here, lying in bed in an unfamiliar room.

Panic began creeping in. She couldn't remember her own name.

When the world seemed to settle, she gradually turned in the bed. She slowly eased herself to her feet, swaying slightly. There was a mirror over the dresser. She was dizzy, that's all. Just dizzy, too dizzy to think. It would all make sense in a moment.

It was a stranger in the mirror. She had pale skin and freckles across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. She had straight red hair and brown eyes, full lips pulled into a frown. She was wearing a white silk nightgown with lace trim. It made her skin look even paler, almost translucent. She must have been sick for some time, since her lips were chapped and whitish. She looked ready to fall over.

She couldn't remember her own name, and she didn't know why.

She gripped the dresser top, staring at her reflection. "Who are you?" she whispered.

She reached out with one hand and touched the silvered glass of the mirror. Her reflection reached back for her, the confused expression never wavering.

The door opened, and she turned her head. A short creature with a knobby head and large eyes dressed in a tea towel stood there, a silver tray with a silver tea set in hand. "Oh, miss is finally up. Hetty has your tea."

"Hetty?" she whispered.

"Yes, miss," the knobbly creature replied. "You must be getting back into the bed. You must be getting your rest. You took an awful fall."

"I fell?" There hadn't been any bruises, no soreness.

"Yes, miss," Hetty answered earnestly. She bit her lip sharply, then smiled at the young woman in front of her. She waited until the young woman climbed back into bed before pouring the tea. "I'll be letting the masters know that you've woken, now."

"Masters?" the girl asked, eyes widening. There was a knot of fear beginning to form in her belly, though she couldn't have said why.

"Of course. They had the healers come to help you." The creature smiled and bowed, knocking her head into the bed frame. "Yes, yes. They helped you." Another knock. "I'll be going now, miss. I'll fetch them."

She sipped the weak tea, hoping it would calm her nerves. She didn't remember, that was all. It was nervousness. It wasn't really fear.

Two men entered the room, and they clearly looked related. The elder was tall, with long silver blonde hair, cold gray eyes and sharply lined features. He looked fairly aristocratic, and was dressed in all black. The younger was tall as well, with a darker shade of blonde. His eyes were silvery gray, and trained on her face. He was looking at her more intently than her father was, though his gaze was much less intimidating.

"Ah, good. You're awake now," the elder said. His smile was cold and almost terrifying, his voice slick and making her insides curl with fear. "We were quite worried about you, young lady. I'm glad we found you when we did."

"Thank you," she replied in a small voice. Neither looked familiar, but the elder one made her insides riot. The younger didn't register the same way, and it was confusing.

"Now, then. If you're feeling well, perhaps we could—"

"I'm dizzy," she interrupted. She was glad that she had put the teacup down, since her hands were shaking. The tea had helped to settle her stomach, but now she was feeling almost nauseous again. "I can barely drink the tea," she added in a whisper.

The elder nodded while the younger frowned in concern. He looked up at his father, who didn't register the glance at all. "I suppose that's from your fall," the elder man said smoothly. "It's probably to be expected."

"Fall?"

"Your carriage was attacked on your way here. We had to search for you when you didn't arrive on time, and found you. Our mediwizard healed you nicely."

She didn't think they were her family. They were too blonde, and her hair was too red. Her pale skin was more from sickness than theirs was, and there hadn't been much of a family resemblance. "Where was I coming from?"

The younger man's frown grew deeper, and the elder man looked concered. _That's fake,_ she thought suddenly. She didn't know how she knew, but she _knew_ he was lying to her, and that he didn't actually care for her.

"Don't you remember?" he asked, his voice unctuous enough to get the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

"I don't remember anything," she replied, looking from one man to the other, her voice betraying some of her panic. "What's my name?" she asked abruptly. She had cut off the elder again, and he didn't look pleased by that. She could see his struggle for control.

"Ginevra," the younger man replied. She liked the way it rolled off of his tongue. "Ginny for short," he added. "You're my fiancée," he said after a moment, voice soft.

Oh, god. She wanted to scream.

"You were away at a finishing school on the continent," the elder man said, cutting into the awkward silence. He spared a glance at his son. "Yes, you are honored enough to be marrying into the Malfoy family. Your lineage is impeccable, a fine Pureblooded addition to the family." His lips stretched back in a sardonic smile. "You're from a distant branch of the Black family tree, and that line has never been polluted by Muggle filth."

"She's overwhelmed, Father," the young man murmured softly. The elder looked at him sharply, then turned to Ginny again. "We can explain everything once she's rested."

"Very well," he said. He turned and left the room after nodding at Ginny.

"You'll be all right," the young man told her. He didn't quite meet her eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked, voice soft. "I can't remember."

"Draco Malfoy." He searched for any sign of recognition in her face, but there was none. "You really don't remember, do you?"

Ginny shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he returned. "It's not your fault. Rest now. There's time to talk later."

Ginny slowly sank back onto the bed. "Thank you, Draco."

He blinked in surprise, and gave her a sad smile. "You're welcome, Ginny."

Somehow, the room seemed so much more desolate after he closed the door behind him.

***

A team of seamstress arrived the next day, and took advantage of Ginny's pliancy. They took all of her measurements, and began making a few outfits with the bolts of cloth they had brought with them. She watched their wands move over the fabric, cutting, sewing and seaming everything. The new clothes were in silks, satins and soft linens, and Ginny touched a finished blouse with suppressed awe. _I shouldn't own these things,_ she thought. _This doesn't really belong to me._

The seamstresses had her try everything on, and adjusted their measurements where necessary. Only when they were satisfied was she allowed to sit down. "We'll have the rest of your wardrobe done by the end of the week, Miss," the head seamstress said, bowing in front of her. "I hope the day's collection is enough to get by until then."

"I'm sure it will be," Ginny replied, her mouth dry. More? She already had five button down blouses, six tailored shirts, four skirts, three dress pants and four dresses. They had also created seven pairs of matching underthings. That was certainly more than enough already.

The seamstresses left, and Ginny began to tuck the clothes away in the drawers of the dresser. She heard a pop behind her, and turned. There was Hetty, wringing her hands. "Oh, no, miss, that's my job you're doing. Oh, how horrid!" She banged her head on the dresser, then shooed her away from it. "You go and meet the masters! Leave Hetty to menial chores!"

Sighing, Ginny left the room. She wandered down the hallway, poking at the rooms on either side of it. Most were empty, and looked like guest rooms. At the end of the hallway, just before the staircase, was a piano room. Ginny walked inside, and stood in front of the piano. She didn't know if she could play it, but sat down in front of it anyway. The sheet music on the stand didn't make any sense, so she likely didn't play the piano.

Ginny left the piano room and went down the stairs. As massive as it seemed to be, she could tell that it wasn't the grand central staircase. The landing was rather plain, with no sense of opulence or grandeur. She wandered down that hallway, until she came to a large entry foyer with a massive marble staircase curving up to the second floor. Ginny looked up at the rotunda, the carved posts and railings. She had never been comfortable with something like this. She knew that much. The sight of it was almost obscene to her.

"There you are," came a voice to her left. It was Draco's father.

She pasted a polite smile on her face as a greeting as he approached. "Thank you for your consideration," she began.

"Of course. We couldn't have a Malfoy bride looking like a pauper."

"Perhaps it's time to go over things with me, to see how much I remember." Ginny tried not to grit her teeth in frustration. She didn't know why she didn't like this man, but the feeling didn't subside. If anything, the more time she spent near the elder Malfoy, the worse it got.

"Certainly. Let's go to the parlor."

The room was as pretentious as she feared it would be. A house elf appeared as they entered the room, and Draco's presence was requested. _Like he's a servant, too,_ Ginny thought as she sat down. _Like an object that can be ordered from a shop for delivery._

When Draco appeared, he sat in a chair opposite his father's, to Ginny's right. His face was a smooth mask, though his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly. Ginny couldn't tell what he was thinking, and she couldn't tell why it seemed to matter so much.

Ginny listened as Draco's father told her about her family. Her parents had lived abroad for many years, only returning to England when her birth was imminent. They had admired the wizarding schools they had seen on the continent, but couldn't bear to part with their only child. As a result, they soon traveled with her and home schooled her themselves. She had been sent to a finishing school to reinforce the social graces she had learned, as well as to learn about the great wizarding families. In the meantime, her parents had gone to Malfoy Manor to broker an engagement. As Draco's late mother – his hands tightened painfully about the chair arms – had been from the Black family, her heritage had initially been of some concern. After consulting with the genealogy texts, it was confirmed that her family was far enough removed from the main branch of the Black family that she was almost not related to Draco at all.

None of it sounded familiar. None of it resonated. Ginevra Black didn't sound familiar at all.

Draco offered to take her on a tour of the Manor. She had supposedly seen it before, during various gatherings throughout the years. She smiled shyly at him, aware of his father watching her every move. It was unnerving, but she ignored it as best as she could.

The Manor was a massive, sprawling place. The central part of the Manor was the oldest and most baroque, having been built centuries before. Different wings had been added by later generations, the last of which was the guest wing where she was currently staying. That had been added by Draco's great-great-great-grandfather. It had been used by much of wizarding society, when Malfoys had held large parties that lasted at least two days. Most recently, it didn't get much use at all. Most of the Manor and its surrounding grounds were unplottable, to help retain the safety of the family. Doors and tunnels and hidden stairwells also aided in escaping the Manor if necessary.

"I don't remember this place," Ginny whispered, looking at the floor. The marble was inlaid in several colors, creating a dizzying pattern. The walls carried portraits of people long since dead, who still shifted about to watch what went on in the house. It was impersonal, less of a home and more of a showpiece. "How can you live here?"

Draco blinked in surprise. "What?"

"It... This feels like a museum. It's not a home, not somewhere you could be comfortable in."

He took her hand and led her outside to the gardens without a word. Ginny watched his face, the tight lines around his lips and eyes. "You weren't always this way," she murmured, almost to herself. Draco stopped short, just before the rose garden. His gaze raked over her face, his expression sharp and almost ugly. "Those lines are new, aren't they? You're still uncomfortable with whatever happened."

"You didn't know my mother," Draco said shortly. "She never met you."

Ginny squeezed his hand in support. "Can't we just talk? Something? I don't remember anything, and we must have been at least friends before this accident."

Draco looked away, and took a deep breath. "There's a bench in the rose garden," he said finally. "We can sit there until lunch."

His face softened as he came into the garden, the scent of roses all around them. There were several worn stone benches, but he took her to a particular one near the center of the garden. He looked around the garden, his expression one of regret. "This is my mother's garden. It was her favorite one."

"What happened?"

Draco's breath whooshed out of him sharply. "I... I don't know the specifics." Ginny had the feeling that he was lying, and was uncomfortable with the topic. "She always tried to protect me," he said finally.

"Tell me about your family," Ginny asked, turning slightly so that she could face him. She could see the uncertainty in his face, the troubled gaze as he looked at her. She reached out and took his hand in hers and gave him a soft smile as she squeezed it. "Aren't they going to be my family now, too? I should know who they are, at least."

"It's gotten smaller," Draco murmured, looking at the path leading into the garden. "Most of the grounds are unplottable now. I can't think of any part of the main house that would be plottable anymore, and everything is warded at least six or seven times over." He looked at their joined hands, where she had been absently rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. "I had a sister once," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never told anyone before."

"You did? Was she older or younger?"

"Younger," Draco replied. His eyes bored into hers. "I was two and a half when Astra was born, and I was almost four when she died. She was sickly, and my mother could barely birth her properly. I remember thinking she was a doll that Mum would never let me play with. And then one day she was gone, and Mum was crying all the time. She couldn't have any more children after that. I didn't understand until after I'd gone away to school."

"She was pretty, wasn't she?" Ginny asked, a sad smile on her face. "She must have been."

"Beautiful," Draco whispered.

Their eyes had locked, and Ginny found it hard to breathe. "I..."

"It's all right if you don't remember me," he said finally. "It might be better that way, really. We didn't get along very well before."

"Did you resent having to get married to me?"

Something like pain flashed in his eyes, and she wondered at it. "It was a surprise. I didn't think it would turn out this way."

"Was I awful to you?"

He smiled wryly. "I think we both had our moments. It's probably even by now."

She smiled at him warmly. "You don't scare me," she admitted. "Your father scares me."

"Why?" he asked, the mask sliding back over his face.

"I don't know. It's not anything I can really place. It just comes over me, and I don't know where it's coming from. I don't really know you, and I know that, but it's almost comfortable to be near you. You're more familiar, I suppose."

His hand tightened around hers, and then he pulled her up to standing. "We should get back."

"Are there portraits of Astra?"

Draco froze. "There used to be," he said softly. "Father destroyed them all."

"He's not a happy man, is he?" Ginny asked, voice just as soft.

"No, he's not." He tried to smile but failed. "It'll be all right, Ginny."

"Are you sure?"

"We're here, aren't we? This is probably the safest place in all of England."

She knew he didn't answer her question, but didn't press the issue. She would have time enough to discover the secrets he held closely.

***  
***


	2. Regrets

Draco Malfoy was not used to feeling guilty, or regretting anything. If he did, it was buried down with anything else he wasn't supposed to feel, anything else he wasn't supposed to know. He had been pulled into the Death Eater fold by default; following his father's embarrassment, there was no one else to redeem the Malfoy name. It hadn't been anything he had expected. It had taken him a year to do the "simple" task he had been assigned. After that, it had taken all of Snape's doing to keep him from being an irredeemable disappointment.

He learned the hard way that pity and mercy would never be given. He learned to school his features into a mask. He learned to ruthlessly shield his mind. He learned to encase himself in a shroud of hate. He was surprised at how easy it was to learn, and how he had never figured it out while at Hogwarts.

The years had spun by faster than he had thought they would. His father was broken out of Azkaban, his mother had her endless tears. Draco had fought in various skirmishes, sometimes against former schoolmates. He had survived, even if his opponents sometimes didn't. It was even easier to be like stone after his mother's murder, even easier to hide behind his rage. He was caught in the middle of a bed of lies, and there was no way he could see to get himself out of it. He was caught by a mistake of birth and circumstance. Perhaps if he had run that fateful night in his sixth year, none of this would have happened.

He remembered Ginny Weasley from school. He remembered that her red hair wasn't so sickeningly orange, that there were freckles on her face. He remembered the rumors circulating in school, that she was loose and was making her way through the male population. But he hadn't seen that many boyfriends, and they never seemed to last for long. But then, he never made it a point to look for her; he was too busy antagonizing her brother and the scar-head. She didn't much matter until she became part of their little group, but there wasn't much of her to notice. She wasn't one of the important ones, and so he never bothered to learn more about her.

Draco still didn't know exactly what had happened. He had been on the other side of the raid, and had only heard a thin feminine wail. Thinking it might be Pansy, he had turned and rushed over. It was her first raid, and she always liked to talk tough. He wouldn't have been surprised if she couldn't take an actual raid.

He saw his father walk out of the side alley with a smirk on his face. Lucius saw Draco, and nodded at him. "I have plans for that one. Bring her to the Manor."

He thought his heart would stop when he saw Ginny Weasley unconscious on the ground. Her leg was bent beneath her at an odd angle, and her face was as pale as death. Her chest barely moved enough to draw breath.

"What happened?"

"She'll be lucky if she remembers how to speak," Lucius replied. "Now bring her to the Manor."

He had brought her there straightaway, using one of his Portkeys. He had worked on making the Manor unplottable after his mother's death. Lucius had approved, so the spells had worked. He liked knowing that the Ministry would never be able to seize Malfoy holdings as they had the Black fortune. He liked knowing he had a place to hide and further taunt the Ministry. He was a fugitive, but he refused to be anything common.

Draco had brought Ginny to one of the guest wings. A lot of the additions to the manor were shielded with spells, but not the one he brought her to. He picked the room that seemed the most feminine, and laid her down on the bed. He healed her broken leg himself, as well as the abrasions on her face and hands. The house elf summoned was carefully instructed that she was not to inform Ginny of her past or the circumstances that brought her to the Manor. "She fell," Draco said. "She fell and we found her."

He felt like a pervert when he stripped her to the skin to dispose of her clothing. The house elf had run to find an appropriate piece of nightwear, leaving Draco alone with her. His eyes raked over her naked form, taking in the curves and valleys. His breath caught, and his heart hammered in his chest. She was a true redhead, top to bottom, and she was well developed.

Hetty came back with a pop, breaking the spell. She dressed the young woman quickly, then tucked her in.

It had taken almost a week for Ginny to wake. The variant of Obliviate that Lucius had used wiped her memory absolutely clean. He was pleased with himself, and outlined his plan. He had used her once before, but that had ended disastrously. This time, Lucius was convinced that it would not fail. There was no boy hero to save her, and no one knew if she was alive or not. Over time, they might even stop trying to look for her.

Her eyes turned to him almost instinctively when she woke. Draco didn't know if he should feel relieved or disgusted by the blank look in her eyes, the lack of recognition.

She placed such trust in him, and he didn't deserve it.

Something of her old memories had to remain, since she didn't feel comfortable around Lucius. He told his carefully spun lies, and it all sounded plausible. Lucius was a master at that. Draco had never learned that knack. Ginny seemed to accept it, though her thoughts swirled somewhere beneath the surface. Draco didn't want to use Ligilmency, and didn't want to see the empty pools in her mind where memory should be.

Draco walked with her throughout the halls of the Manor. She accepted everything he told her, nodding thoughtfully. "You must think me awful silly," Ginny murmured after a moment. "I keep asking you the same things over again."

"It's all right," Draco replied. "You don't remember, and you want to be sure. I'd do the same if I were you."

Ginny smiled at him, the sun falling over her face. She was no longer so deathly pale, and she enjoyed the rose garden as much as his mother used to. "You're being so nice to me."

"I'm your fiancé, aren't I?" he asked softly.

Her expression grew troubled. "I don't remember that at all. I don't remember anything. Did we like each other, at least?"

"We didn't know each other very well," Draco hedged. He wasn't supposed to have known her through school, not that they had ever interacted much.

Her eyes ran over his face, and for a moment he felt exposed. "Did I like you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I think it's hard to like someone you really don't know."

"What about now?" she asked after a moment. "Do you like me now?"

He thought of her pale skin, the swell of her breast and the subtle rise and fall of her chest. He could feel his groin begin to tighten, and he smiled at her wanly. "I'm getting to know you again. I could."

"How can you get to know me when I don't know me?"

Draco placed his palm over her chest, and his skin burned at the contact. Her breath fluttered in her chest, and he could feel her heart begin to race. "This never changes. Your memory might be gone, but your heart remains the same. Your soul is the same. That's who I'm getting to know, and that's the one I'm liking."

Her lips parted, and Draco wanted to kiss her. _Too soon!_ his mind screamed. _It's too soon! Draw this out if you want to save her!_

She tasted like honey, her lips soft against his. He didn't invade her mouth as he wanted to. It was their first kiss, and he didn't want to overwhelm her. Draco twined his arms around her, the scent of roses wafting about them on the breeze. After a moment's hesitation, Ginny put her arms around him as well. She leaned into his embrace, a soft humming sound in her throat.

The world seemed to stop when their kiss ended.

It restarted with the sound of a branch breaking beneath someone's foot. _Father._

Draco caught Ginny's hand and pulled her further into the garden. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered with excitement. Her grin was infectious, and he found himself returning it. They wound up in the center of the garden, where the worn benches were spotted with moss and dirt had worked its way into the delicately carved scrollwork of the legs. It was the oldest part of the garden, the one his great-great-grandmother had begun. Roses gave way to other, hardier plants. The gardening house elves refused to come to the center of the garden, and Narcissa used to prune the bushes herself. The blooms were always so much larger from this part of the garden, the scent so much headier.

Ginny wound her arms around him, the grin wide on her face. "Oh, this is wonderful. We didn't used to do this, did we? I think I'd remember this."

"No, we didn't," Draco replied almost sadly. He traced her spine with his fingertips, feeling her lush breasts press against his chest. "We should have."

"Now this is special. This is our place, isn't it?"

He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to say that she meant nothing, could never mean anything, could never have everything.

But he smiled at her instead. "This is our place now."

Ginny leaned against him, her head tucked against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, and smiled softly. "This is better than I could have hoped, you know."

Draco felt the burn begin in his arm and kept from wincing. "We should get back," he said. She looked up in concern, and he forced himself to smile. "There's an appointment I should get to tonight. I don't want you to wait up."

"What is it? You're worried about something."

_Perceptive. What was Father_ thinking? _I can't do this..._

Draco smiled and led her back out of the garden. "I don't want you to feel lonely, that's all. I used to think that the Manor was a scary place when I was a small child."

"Really? But it's your home."

_A mausoleum filled with moving marionette dolls that don't know who's pulling the strings,_ Draco thought darkly. His face remained an impassive mask. "Everything seems so much more eerie in the dark," he murmured.

She stood at the threshold of the main gallery as Draco followed Lucius out of the Manor. Ginny didn't ask where they were going or what they planned to do. She watched with luminous eyes and a lost expression.

Draco had to remember how to breathe. Somehow he had forgotten.

"What an honor we shall receive," Lucius was saying, voice smooth and oily. It coated Draco's ears and left him numb inside. "The Dark Lord will be most appreciative."

"Of course, Father," Draco replied dutifully. "Of course."

He wanted to scream. Regret burned his throat and weighed heavily in his gut. Guilt raced through his veins, sharper than any Crucio he had ever received.

Her eyes haunted him. That was the worst part.

***

He stumbled back into his rooms sometime in the middle of the night. His father had presented his daft plan, and the Dark Lord amazingly enough thought it was amusing enough to proceed with. Draco had kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the floor like a dutiful Death Eater, his mind carefully blank. He traced the patterns in the floor with his eyes, letting it fill his mind and drown everything out. Black marble, white marble, gray. Silver mask, black gown, black hood. Black marble, white marble, gray. Silver mask, black gown, black hood.

There was a raid on a Muggle fishing village afterward. Draco followed the others, wand in hand, mask over his face. Little girls routed from bed and sent to running, making live targets in a dangerous hunt. The laughter of the Death Eaters filled his ears, washing through him and leaving him hollow. The shrieks followed him, thin and frail, feminine and full of fear. _Help me! Please! Somebody help me!_

He wasn't able to help anyone. He couldn't even help himself.

He thought of Ginny, red hair and brown eyes dancing for him. He knew Lucius' plans for her, knew the role he was expected to play.

_I can't do this. I can't._

Draco whipped around and held out his wand. The girl in front of him was in a nightshirt, blonde hair mussed from sleep. Her green eyes were wide and catlike, her mouth parted in a gasp of shock. She hadn't known he was here, standing apart from the others. She had thought she could hide until the attack was over, huddled beneath the bushes out of sight.

He could hear her thoughts slide through his -- _Oh please no, not like Mum, not like Mum, not like this, Da would never be able to survive it, please don't kill me, please be to God don't let him kill me_ \-- and he felt his chest clench painfully.

Draco whispered the sleeping charm, his wand at her throat. The girl's eyes fluttered, her lips parted, and then she fell to the ground in front of him. He turned and left the area, taking large steps. He nodded at a fellow Death Eater, who joined up with him and moved back toward the main square.

"Just like you to think of the details," Nott told him admiringly. "No one knew where the chit went. Might've kicked up a fuss, you think?"

"Not anymore," Draco said shortly. He didn't join in when Nott began to laugh, and parted ways with him as soon as he could.

A conscience was a terrible thing to have. He didn't know if he could survive it.

***

Draco soaked himself in the tub. It was a large marble tub, and reminded him of the Prefect's bath at Hogwarts. He closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the steam waft around him. His shoulders felt tight, and his head hurt. He could still hear the screaming, and behind his eyes he could see the flames rising up into the midnight sky. There was very little left of that fishing village, and he had left with ashes on his tongue.

Knowledge weighed heavily in his gut. He was older than his years, bent more with the weight of what he had done or allowed to be done than time alone.

He didn't open his eyes at the popping sound of a house elf. "Miss Black would like to see you when you're able."

"All right. I'll find her soon enough."

The elf disappeared with a slight popping sound. Draco sighed. How could he do this to her? She was already a broken thing, a somnambulist not realizing she was still asleep. She would never realize it, would never see that she was simply going through the motions of a life that was not hers. It wouldn't matter anyway; if Lucius had his way, she would be dead before the year was out in a ceremony grander than the one that killed his mother.

_Blonde hair and empty eyes, blood dripping down the black marble. Black marble, white marble, gray. Black marble, white marble, gray..._

Draco shot up in the tub and toweled himself off quickly. He had made his decision, and Merlin help them all if he failed.

***

Ginny innately had impeccable table manners and social graces. Perhaps she just didn't have need of them at Hogwarts. Perhaps Gryffindors thought volume more than made up for actual knowledge. Perhaps they had gone unappreciated in the sty of a home she lived in. Perhaps it was something she absorbed from the Manor, an eerie grace she couldn't help but mimic. The Manor was old, and it was shot through with ancient magic and spells so deeply ingrained into the stone that he didn't know what they were anymore. He doubted anyone knew what the Manor could truly do if pressed; he knew very well that he could only make it unplottable with its permission, and it had graciously allowed the change. Draco didn't want to think of what could have happened if it did want to be found.

She smiled up at him sunnily over breakfast. Toast and jam with orange juice. Something plain and familiar, something innocuous. She didn't know the kind of horrors he had to deal with, the kind he had to dispense. She couldn't know, yet it was something she would sooner or later be subject to.

Draco couldn't bear it any longer.

"What shall we do today, then? Your father mentioned business somewhere."

Lucius had appeared pleased with himself after the raid. Draco remembered dimly something about accounts and the indignity of wearing a disguise. It used to take a good solid day to take care of all of his accounts, but that was back when he could legitimately look into all of them. Now it could take less time if the advisors couldn't bypass security spells, or more time if they thought they might be able to.

"Let's go for a walk," Draco murmured. She smiled at him and let him lead her throughout the Manor. It started out with his explanations about the portraits or sculptures, and she had seemed to be honestly enthralled. When he found himself by her room, he dropped all pretenses. He grabbed her by the hair at the back of her head. Her mouth fell open in surprise as he spun her about in his arms, her hair caught up in his left fist. His right held her arm in check. "You don't know what's happened," he hissed.

"Draco," Ginny gasped. "You're hurting me."

"They mean to kill you," Draco hissed. The words ended her struggles as the shock set in. "Oh, not now. Not right away. Not until you've fulfilled your purpose and have given me a proper heir. But there's spells on you now, and the first time you conceive will give me a son. And then there's no use for you any longer."

Ginny couldn't breathe. He could see the fear in her eyes, the inability to comprehend what he was saying. He had been nice to her for a month and a half. He had been nothing short of courteous and kind. She had no indication that he meant her harm.

"They have plans for you," Draco murmured, his eyes falling to her mouth. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "I didn't think I'd care."

"Please don't," she whispered, eyes raking over his face. He kept his face a smooth mask, and she couldn't see a thing. He could see that she didn't understand what was going on, that she couldn't grasp the enormity of what he was doing. She couldn't remember the war, the fights they had in the past, the loathing she held for his family. She couldn't remember anything.

He kissed her, tongue sliding into her slack mouth. She made a mewling noise deep her throat, and Draco dropped his hand from her face to her breast. He kneaded it through the silk of her blouse and the lace of her bra, feeling her nipple pebble up beneath his thumb. Her hands scrabbled across his back, then came to his front to try to push him off. Draco kept up his steady rhythm, his tongue in her mouth and her nipple under his thumb. Ginny stopped trying to push him away after a moment, and held his shirt in her fists. He could feel the heat of her body radiate in waves, and it pooled in his groin. He wanted her, Merlin help him. It didn't matter if there were spells woven into her skin or not, he wanted to bury himself deep within her, to make her cry out his name as she came. He wanted her mouth on him, her lithe body beneath him. He wanted her so badly he shook with it, and was willing to defy his father to save her.

_But it's not just her. She's just the last reason. It's everything, from the beginning until now. He never saw the devotion, the desire to please. He saw fault in everything, created fault in everything. And with Mother gone, there's no use left. There's no need to be good, no need to prove anything to anyone. But now... Ginny needs me. She needs me more than anyone has ever needed me, and I can do something about it..._

She melted within his arms, eyes closed and leaning into his kiss. He laid her down on the bed and deftly unbuttoned her blouse. "You mustn't..." she whispered feebly. "We're not married yet." Her eyes raked over his face. "And you said..."

"I want you anyway," Draco growled, pulling her blouse open. He fixed his mouth on her breast, laving it through the thin lace. He slid his hand up her skirt as her hands wound their way through his hair. He slid his fingers inside her panties, and she gasped in surprise. He followed her, and pressed his fingers against her. She was growing moist, insistent, and she was arching up into his mouth as she moaned.

"What are you doing to me?" she gasped. "I can't... I can't think. You said... I should hate you for what you said..."

Draco slid a finger inside her, and she was tight. The rumors were false, then. She wasn't any kind of Gryffindor slag, and she was still a virgin.

Dear Merlin, the spells would be doubly powerful.

She made a keening sound as he began to stroke her, and her hitching breath was loud in the silent room. Draco lifted his head and locked eyes with her. "You belong to me, don't you?" he said fiercely, lips pressed into a flat line. He wanted her badly, he wanted to feel her clench down around him.

"Yes..." she gasped, the S drawn out in a hiss. "Yes, Draco," she panted.

"I'll protect you the best way I know how," he promised. "You'll have to do as I say, Ginny. You have to trust me. Otherwise, we'll both be dead."

"Oh!" she cried as his finger moved to a certain spot. "Oh, Draco, that feels so good..."

He stroked her to climax, feeling her body convulse around his finger. Eyes locked to hers, he put his finger into his mouth and tasted her juices. Ginny's breath caught, and she reached out for him. "I'll keep you safe," he promised. "I have to try."

"How can I help?" she asked in a small voice. "I can't remember spells, but there must be something that I can do."

Even the Gryffindor traits remained, memory or no memory. The taste of her on his tongue, Draco felt his insides clench. _I have to keep her safe..._

"I haven't told you anything yet. Keep your mind blank around anyone other than me. I need to find a way out of this mess."

Ginny sat up and grasped Draco's face in her hands. "I trust you," she said softly. She leaned in and kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth. Her hands moved so that she could tug on his hair gently. "I trust you."

He only hoped she hadn't misplaced that trust.

***  
***


	3. Planning

"How did she die?" Ginny asked, voice gentle. They were in the heart of the garden, with the largest blossoms and the sweetest perfume. She was lying on one of the old stone benches, her hair sprawled around her like a living flame. She was wearing another button-down blouse and a skirt, taunting him with flashes of creamy bare skin.

"It's a ceremony," Draco murmured, his hand coming to rest over her abdomen. "After they rip our child from you, they violate you and tear you to shreds. Your blood would be used to make the ritual stronger, and the years you'll never spend will be added to the Dark Lord's."

She looked at him solemnly. Ginny was starting to be able to read the subtle nuance in his face, but it was partly also because he allowed her to get this close. Now she knew his eyes were troubled even if his face was serene, and the guilt was eating at him even though he would never say such a thing. He was sorry for the role he was forced to play, sorry that he would have to strike the initial blow.

Ginny reached out to him. "It's all right, Draco," she murmured. "We can escape. We can leave here and hide..."

"There are wards. They'll go off if you leave. You're not supposed to leave here at all."

"So if I go, you go, too."

"I won't be any good to you dead."

Ginny turned to her side and reached out for him. Her hand landed on his upper thigh, and she squeezed it gently. "I can help you. Whatever you need me to do..."

"Right now, that's not much."

"I had family, you said. Couldn't we go to them?"

Draco closed his eyes. He remembered the violently orange hair of the twins and her brother Ron. He remembered the pompous brother shouting that he was Head Boy to all that would listen. No, her brothers wouldn't be able to help her.

"I'm not the one they'd listen to. And I wouldn't be able to find them, anyway."

"Surely you knew something about them." She kneaded his thigh enticingly, and then shifted on the bench so that her head rested on his knee.

"We hated each other. My family has always hated yours."

"Why?" Her brow wrinkled prettily, and she looked up at him. "You're a nice fellow."

"You didn't used to think so."

She sat up abruptly. "So you did know me. Better than you said you did."

"It was all a lie," Draco agreed solemnly. "You've always hated me."

Ginny stared at him, trying to read his eyes. They were shuttered now; he was ashamed, she knew, and didn't want her to see the truth in him. "Draco? What happened?"

"He probably was going to kill you. But he figured that I needed to take a wife to get an heir, but I'd be expected to sacrifice her. Who better to sacrifice than someone I don't care for, right?" His voice cracked at the end, and he looked away.

Ginny reached out and stroked his shoulder. "You're not as evil as they want you to be. You can't do that, can you?"

He grasped her abruptly and pulled her closer to him. "I can't. You're mine, now and forever. I can't share you with anyone, not even in death."

She kissed him, mouth open over his. She adjusted her position on the bench so that she wasn't in an awkward position. Her tongue slid into his mouth, seeking his tongue eagerly. His hands came to rest on her hips, fingers tightening.

"I want you," he panted in her ear. "I want to be inside you. I want you screaming my name," he panted. "But if I do that, I've sealed your fate."

"You can save me," Ginny whispered, her hand running down his chest. It stopped over the bulge in his pants. "You don't have to be afraid of this."

"I can't be brave like you were. I don't want you to die."

"I won't," Ginny whispered, her lips closing over his earlobe. "We'll plan something. You tell me how it works, and we'll get out of here."

"It's not that simple."

"Why can't it be?" Her teeth nipped his earlobe gently. "Keep it simple. Keep to the basics, and spring the trap when they don't suspect." Her hand rubbed him gently, and Draco groaned. "They have to think you'll help them."

"Merlin, I can't... I can't fuck you yet," he growled. "I can't risk it."

Her teeth closed over his earlobe. "I want to touch you," she whispered. "Like you did for me. That should be safe. That's a start." She licked the shell of his earlobe, rubbing his member through his pants. "Can't I want it, too? Can't I want to be part of you? Can't I want everything you have to give?"

Draco groaned and shifted his hips so that she had better access. "Ginny... I need to find a safe place. Someplace they'll never find you."

"The last person you'd ever ask," she whispered, rubbing harder. "The last one they'd suspect you of working with," she added, feeling him begin to shudder beneath her hand. "There's got to be someone like that out there."

Draco came with a cry, then sagged back in her arms. He gasped for breath, looking up at her. Her red hair fell down around them, a fiery halo carrying the garden's scent. "Ginny," he whispered, touching her face. "I can't lose you."

She gave him a crooked smile, and he couldn't help but smile in return. "Who said you had to, silly? And who said I couldn't help you?"

Stupid, brave Gryffindors. They didn't know what they were asking.

But still, it just might work.

***

Ginny wandered throughout the Manor while the Malfoys were out. She knew the layout of the guest wing and had even learned her way about the maze of greenery that was the gardens. The main part of the Manor was fairly open, and it was easy to wander through there. She was currently making her way through the upper stories of the Manor, taking in how deserted the entire place seemed to be. She touched the wall in one random hallway. She could almost feel the thrumming of magic behind the paint and plaster, and it seemed almost comforting. The Manor was laced with magic from top to bottom, but it would never allow something damaging to happen to its family within its walls. By becoming Draco's fiancée, she automatically became part of the Malfoy family as far as the house was concerned. She fell under its dictates of safety, and that was definitely a reassuring thought.

She found an entrance to the attics in one of the forgotten bedrooms on the fourth floor of the Manor. The trapdoor entrance was in the roof of one of the closets in the large bedroom. It didn't even look like a master bedroom despite its size; there was no adjoining bath and sitting room as there was in one of the bedrooms down the hall. Ginny climbed on top of a chair and pushed the attic entrance open. It creaked, and she froze in terror. _Horror movie madness. This is just like a horror film! There's a ghost in the attic that will devour my soul and leave me a splotch of blood on the rafters. I'm dead. I'll never know what's up there, and I'll never know my real family and I'll never get out of here..._

Ginny blinked in surprise. What in the world was a movie? Or a film? And how would she know of such a thing?

It had to be a fragment of a memory that didn't quite erase. Who knew how many memories were shattered that way? She had known that there was something off about Lucius Malfoy, and finding out that he was the one that erased her memory for nefarious purposes only confirmed that feeling of fear. What else was left in the recesses of her mind?

Ginny pushed the trapdoor open and pushed herself up and into the attic. She blinked up into the darkness and wondered why she had never thought to bring a lamp with her. _Where did my wand go? How am I supposed to take care of myself about these parts if they decide to kill me anyway?_ she thought irritably. If she was a witch, if she could do magic, why hadn't she even stopped to think about the practicalities?

Ginny dropped down from her perch and looked about for something she could use to light her way. She somehow doubted that there would be a Muggle torch or a candlestick lying about, but she looked anyway. Ginny found a forgotten nail file in one of the dresser drawers. She pursed her lips, not sure if it would work. "Lumos," she said firmly, swishing the nail file. To her surprise, it lit. There was enough light to wander through the attic without tripping over anything, so she returned to the closet. She pushed herself up carefully.

She walked along the attic, the lit nail file in hand. She could see boxes stacked neatly, some labeled in a spidery hand. There were either names or years, but no indication of what might be inside. It seemed as though the attic spanned the entire Manor, and Ginny thought she could see it extend past where the house visibly ended for her. _There's so much more to all of this than meets the eye,_ she thought, peering into the darkness. _There's so much he didn't tell me. Maybe he doesn't even know it all. Maybe they never told him, either, and he's stumbling about in the dark just the same._

She walked toward the main family living area, and saw a whole section of boxes labeled Narcissa in the same spidery script. That had been Draco's mother's name, and Ginny's heart plummeted to the bottom of her feet. The remains of a lifetime were boxed up in the attic, nothing more than a name and scattered belongings.

She walked closer and noticed a much smaller box next to all of Narcissa's large boxes. It was labeled Astra, and now Ginny's heart quickened. Draco hadn't been lying about that to make her feel sorry for him. He hadn't invented a self for her to care for, and he was likely telling the truth about everything else.

Ginny pored over the photos tucked away inside the box. These had likely been the only things Narcissa had been able to save when Lucius burned every scrap of Astra's memory. The baby was a tiny thing, fragile-looking and swathed in white. Her silver blonde hair was light and feathery, wisps sticking up from her scalp. She sat in Narcissa's lap, not moving much, but occasionally smiling up at her mother. Ginny couldn't help but melt a little at the sight of the little girl. She paused at a picture of Draco and Astra together. He was holding her carefully, as if she was a porcelain doll. He touched her face lightly, then handed her back to his mother.

Someone was looking for her. She could feel a pulling sensation along her spine, as if she was being watched. But no one was in the attic, so it had to be that someone was looking for her. It was impossible to tell who was looking for her.

Ginny took the last photo and tucked it inside her shirt. She took the nail file and ran back to the attic entrance she had found. She dimmed the feeble light and climbed down from the attic. She ran down to the wing that she was supposed to be staying in; if it wasn't Draco looking for her, she had the feeling that she would be in trouble.

It was Draco. He was looking into every room of the guest wing, and was relieved when he saw her running up to him. Draco caught her about the waist and spun her around. "I thought you'd gone," he whispered against the skin of her neck. "That maybe he didn't wait until I'd gotten you with child, that maybe he'd changed his mind about you."

Head tucked inside the crook of his neck, Ginny sighed. "I was exploring. I found the attics."

He pressed his lips against the side of her neck. "Anything interesting?"

She pulled back, nodding. She tugged on his hand and led him to her room. She pulled the picture out of her shirt and handed it over. "That's you and Astra," she said unnecessarily when he stilled at the sight of it.

He sank down on her bed, the photo in hand. "I thought Father had burned them all."

"There aren't many left, but there must have been a few he missed." Ginny sat down beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "She was pretty."

Draco leaned his head against hers. "Sometimes I think she was a dream. That maybe I'd dreamt her up, and she never really existed."

"Then you'd be sleepwalking through life."

"Aren't I? It's not as if I'd thought for myself much. I'd always done what was expected of me."

His voice was so mournful that Ginny pulled her head away. She turned and looked at him, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. "You're awake now, Draco. You're thinking for yourself. It's not always a bad thing to do what's expected of you if that's what you want to do, too. Right?" She traced his lips with her thumb. "I don't think you're dreaming."

He leaned forward, touching his lips to hers. Her hands slid around his head and she wrapped her arms around him. He held her waist. Ginny's mouth opened under his, and his tongue dipped in to brush against hers. Her breath escaped with a soft sigh, and her arms wound even tighter around him. His hand slid dangerously low down her back, and she didn't protest. If anything, she pressed herself closer against him. Draco could feel every curve flush against his body, and he was reacting to it predictably. He held her tight, tucking his face down into her hair. She smelled like flowers, like spring in his mother's garden.

He slowly kissed his way up to her jaw, then back up to her ear. Ginny could hardly breathe. He was achingly gentle, setting her nerves on edge. Draco licked a trail down her neck, to the edge of the exposed skin above her blouse. She watched as he unbuttoned it, then slid the silk down her shoulders. Her bra was lace and silk, and Draco could see the dusky outline of her nipples through the thin material. He suckled her breast, his teeth nipping and coaxing the nipple to its full peak. One of his hands moved down to the junction of her thighs, pressing gently. Ginny moved her legs restlessly, moaning softly.

He trailed his fingers along her thigh, pushing up the edge of her skirt. He chuckled when Ginny shimmied out of her panties and skirt. She gave him a shy smile, a blush settling in over her cheeks. "You look eager for something," Draco murmured, fingers brushing over her bare skin. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

She kissed him in response. "You think too much sometimes," she murmured. "You worry, and you live between worlds. Pick one and _live,_ Draco. We'll make it work out." Her grin was infectious, and her kiss was intoxicating. "I'm willing to take the risk. I'm not afraid."

"Bloody Gryffindor," Draco moaned as Ginny's undid his shirt, her hands skimming over his skin. The touch sent shivers down his spine. "You aren't afraid of anything, are you?"

"Not a damn thing," she said with a grin, tackling his pants next. "Why should you be? I'm certain we can make this work."

He touched the bared tangle of hair between her legs. Draco felt them tremble around his wrist, and took his time exploring her. He traced her folds, finding her damp for him. He pushed a finger inside her, finding it tight and moist. He moved his finger back and forth gently, then pulled it out to find her clit. "I want it, Draco," she moaned, arching into his touch. "I'm not afraid of it. Give me everything."

He kissed his way between her breasts, as he circled her clit slowly. His tongue laved her nipple, back and forth, then in slow circles. He sucked gently, his tongue firmly over her skin. At Ginny's keening cry, he moved faster. Ginny moaned, head thrown back and eyes shut tight. She could feel the tension begin to build, the pleasure rising as her body tightened in anticipation and want. "Tell me no," Draco whispered against her neck, his hand never ceasing. "Tell me no, tell me to leave you alone. If I can't save you... I'd never forgive myself."

Ginny threaded her fingers through his hair, arching into his touch again. "Never," she moaned, head falling back. Her hair spilled around her shoulders, soft and loose. "I want to remember this, and I'm not giving it up."

Draco pulled his hand from between her thighs abruptly. His eyes were dark gray, dilated with need. "I won't lose you."

"No," Ginny whispered. "You won't."

"If you only knew..." Draco muttered. "You'd hate me."

"I don't remember who I was," Ginny said softly, placing her hand over his wrist. She pulled his hand back between her thighs. "But I know who I am now, and I know who you are now. I don't have to remember who you were. I can see your soul in your eyes. I can see the truth there. I know you didn't mean it."

"How can you forgive me for my part in it?" Draco whispered, pulling his hand away from her.

Her eyes were dark with desire. "Because you're willing to fix it. Because you're going to save us both. Because you've changed." She traced the curve of his cheek with her finger. "Whoever you used to be, it's not who you are now."

He kissed her then, deep and slow. Ginny opened her mouth beneath his, trying to draw his breath into her lungs. She wanted to be part of him, to give him the strength she knew she was made of. Draco broke the kiss, then slowly licked his way down the hollow of her throat. Ginny shut her eyes as she sighed in pleasure. He was gentle, slow and determined. She could feel Draco's tongue dip into her belly button, then lick a trail straight down to her sensitive clit. Then his lips closed around the nub, tugging gently.

Draco held her hips still with one hand as he licked her clit. He slipped his fingers back inside of her, and began to move them rhythmically. Ginny's legs were splayed wide around his shoulders, and they trembled as she tumbled close to coming. He hummed faintly, eyes closed. He was drowning in the scent of her, the feel of her soft skin against his. If not for his father's demented plans, he would never have known how this felt. He crooked his fingers inside her, and Ginny leapt up with the shock of pleasure that shot through her.

Spent, Ginny lay on the coverlet struggling for breath. Draco rose, watching her chest heave. She trusted him, the silly, brave girl. She didn't know how bad things could get, but she was willing to take the risk. Draco didn't even think he was worth it.

When she opened her eyes and smiled at him, it almost felt as though she had bared her very soul to him. Draco wasn't about to take this gift lightly.

"I'm going to do everything I can to protect you," Draco promised.

"I know you will," Ginny replied, smiling. "I trust you."

"I want to be inside you," he whispered, almost frightened.

"Yes," she moaned, reaching for him. "I want it."

Draco moved over her, hovering just above her waiting body. He kept thinking it was a cruel joke, that she would roll away at the last minute. But she traced his cheeks, lips drawn back in the sweetest smile he had ever seen. She pulled him down, her hands moving down his back. She caught his buttocks within her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. Draco positioned himself, then closed his eyes. He thrust deeply inside of her, burying himself to the hilt. His eyes flew open in surprise when he pushed past resistance.

Dear Merlin, he had forgotten she was a virgin. Ginny had never done more than snog any boy, and she had given herself up to her family's greatest enemy.

Ginny pulled him closer to her, shifting her hips to allow Draco better access. "It's all right," she whispered. "I'm all right. It's okay."

"It's not," Draco nearly sobbed. She was a virgin, and the spells would be that much more powerful. They were doomed. She had nine months left to live.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head so that she could lock eyes with him. "I'm all right. It's all right. We'll get through this. We'll save each other." Ginny let go of his hair and grasped his face with both hands. "I know we will. We must."

Closing his eyes, Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She was tight, almost impossibly tight. They were doomed anyway. There was nothing else to do now. She said she wanted everything, she wanted to feel him. Draco thrust into her, making her gasp. Eyes shut tight, he moved harder, faster, deeper. He was gasping, feeling Ginny clench tight around him. She was pulling him in deeper, curling up around him, her mouth hot on his neck. She gasped for breath, her mouth pressed against his pulse. She was so tight against him, fluttering, squeezing against him. Draco squeezed his eyes tight and moaned. Draco had her hair fisted in his hands on either side of her, and he knew he was about to lose control.

_Welcome to the end of the world..._ he thought, growing dizzy.

Ginny could feel the pull of spells within her, a growing pressure in her chest that almost felt like fire. She grit her teeth against the pain of it. Her body was already stretched around Draco, the intrusion so much more uncomfortable than she thought it would be. She dug her fingers into Draco's skin, eyes shut tight. She heard his cry of release from far away, dimly aware of his body collapsing over hers. The pressure in her chest grew even stronger, and she could hardly breathe any longer. Its strands pulled at her belly, and the fire grew uncomfortably hot.

It ended suddenly, and she was able to breathe again. She drew in a shuddering breath, the tightness in her chest and belly gone. Ginny opened her eyes and saw Draco's concerned face, his hands around her face.

"Draco?"

"You were unconscious," he whispered. She could see the pain etched in his face, the horror of it still lingering in his eyes. "For a moment there, I almost thought I'd killed you."

_The spells,_ she thought wildly. He hadn't been kidding about that. The pain had been too real, and his terror was still coursing through him.

She managed to give him a sunny smile. "For Merlin's sake, Draco. It'll take more than sex and a handful of bloody spells to kill me."

"Don't even joke about something like that," he said, brows furrowed. His hands dropped down to his lap. "I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have let you talk me into it. We're doomed," he intoned darkly.

Ginny poked him in the gut, lips pursed. "Now, aren't you sorry for yourself? Honestly, you're not as bad as all that. And I'm not as useless as you seem to think I am." Ginny pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked down at herself. There was no visible sign of anything yet, but that wouldn't happen for months. What she did see were the smears of his seed leaking from between her thighs. There were streaks of red there. She looked up at Draco's stricken face and she couldn't help but smile at him. "Now, I don't know about you, but I feel like I could use a good scrubbing. Want to help me wash up?"

Draco's brows were still furrowed. "You can't joke abut this, Ginny."

"I'm not. I feel sticky. Shower with me?"

He couldn't breathe as she smiled at him, her hair mussed and falling over her shoulders. Her lips quirked playfully, and she looked almost seductive.

Against his better judgment – what judgment? – Draco returned her smile. "Anything you want, Ginny," he murmured.

"I'm holding you to it," she declared, getting to her feet. "You're scrubbing my back first!" she called out, running to her adjoining bath.

Draco took a deep breath. A tendril of fear curled in his gut; he didn't want to have to go against his own father, especially since he had spent a lifetime trying to live up to his father's lofty expectations. Still, he couldn't be a dependent son any longer. A wife and child were depending on him now. Time to grow the hell up.

***

Ginny looked at her reflection in the mirror. She didn't look any different yet, but she could feel different already. Something hummed beneath her skin, and the Manor seemed to resonate along with it. She was truly a Malfoy now, and the Manor was welcoming her within its walls. She was guaranteed protection as long as she was on the property, but that didn't give her any comfort. Part of the problem was Lucius Malfoy and his convoluted plots that wound up with her dead at the end of them. She had put on a brave face for Draco's benefit, and she thought that maybe he had believed it. But trying to be someone else was harder than it seemed, and now she felt almost drained from the effort.

Draco had put on a brave face of his own as he left the Manor that night. He had claimed he had some errands to run, but she noticed that he favored his left arm. She remembered the ugly skull tattoo, the awful thread of memory that had threatened to return.

_All of the things I want to say to you get lost before they come,_ she thought at her reflection. _There's nothing left to say any longer. The countdown is on._

"Your current master wants to kill me," she said softly, touching the door frame to her bedroom in the guest room. "Oh, it won't be today or tomorrow. But he's got plans for me, and that day will come soon enough."

The Manor seemed to understand; the wood shuddered beneath her palm.

"I know you'd protect me if you could. I cannot explain to you how I know this, but I do. And anything I say or do might just get you in trouble. You're supposed to protect Malfoys, and he might say something to make you believe that my death would protect the family." She rubbed the wooden frame gently. "I don't blame you. You have to do what's right for the family. He'll trick you, that's all."

The wood shuddered again, in a different pattern this time. Draco hadn't mentioned anything about a sentient Manor. Ginny supposed that he had never paid any attention to his childhood home and had taken it for granted. She had no memory of this place, and had paid careful attention to its layout and features. She supposed that it liked that, that it appreciated the care she took in learning it.

"Draco loves me, I think," she whispered, pressing her forehead to the frame. "He'll die inside if his father kills me. He won't care about anything once I'm dead. His father doesn't seem to care about anything that really matters. He doesn't care about family or love or making things last for the ages." Ginny could feel the Manor's assent. She could hear the rumbling inside of the creaking sounds of the house settling. The Manor understood everything.

Ginny straightened, but kept her palm pressed against the smooth wood of the door frame. "I hope our actions won't get you into trouble. But you can't speak the words they can, and I don't know how else to ask you. We need to get away. Draco said there are alarm spells. I'm not allowed to leave the grounds. But I need to go, or else Draco's father is going to trick you and make you allow him to harm a Malfoy."

The Manor shuddered in anger. It certainly didn't like that idea.

"We need to get away. We'll do something so that no one would think that you helped us. A Portkey, maybe. Or hiding until Lucius is gone. Something. I can't let anything bad happen to Draco because of me." She smiled at the door frame, her eyes watering. "I guess I love him, even though I've never told him. He doesn't know. It's why I didn't mind the spells, why I still wanted him even though it was dangerous to."

The Manor approved. Of course it did; it wanted more generations of Malfoys.

"I'd want lots of babies with him. Isn't that silly? I don't even have this one yet, and I already want the next three or four."

The Manor nearly shivered in delight at her words. Oh yes, it would help her now.

"I'm going to talk to Draco about this. We'll coordinate something. And once we have a solid plan, we'll put it to work. I've grown to like you, you know. I'd like to live here and not have to fear that I'd be killed someday."

The wood nearly hummed beneath her hand. Ginny rubbed the door frame once and then left the room. She had more exploring to do. She wanted to memorize the entire Manor, just in case. If Lucius caught wind of their plan, she would need to know where good hiding places were. She wasn't going to rush headlong into escaping. She would have a good plan and a few backups in place, leaving nothing to chance.

Three lives were at stake.

***  
***


	4. Conspiracy

Lucius eyed his son over the breakfast table. Ginny had already left for a walk in the gardens, not making eye contact with anyone. Draco managed to eat without anything sticking in his throat, which was a larger achievement than he felt prepared for.

"It's about time you got that chit pregnant. That's two extra months I'd had to tolerate a Weasley brat in my home."

"You wanted the plan to work, didn't you?" Draco replied coldly.

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Don't take that tone with me."

"She would never carry the child to term if I'd raped her the first night. You know that." Draco drank his coffee slowly, hoping that his father would grow bored and go away.

No such luck.

"You know your part in this ritual, of course," his father began. His tone was smug and sure, never suspecting the inner turmoil of Draco's thoughts. Lucius had never put much stock in anything but Draco's obedience. He had never bothered to learn Legilimency or Occlumency, even though he had all but forced Bellatrix to teach Draco the skills. He had thought it beneath him to learn such skills; Lucius expected everyone to tell him the truth.

"I remember, Father," Draco intoned.

"It will be a great day for the Malfoy line. There is an heir and further advancement into our Lord's ranks. Remember that."

"It might be wise to refrain from using her so soon." Draco could see his father's eyes narrow at him again, the beginning edge of anger beginning.

"You will explain yourself," Lucius said, his voice cutting.

Draco could feel the disapproval settle over his skin, adding another layer over him. He calmly chewed his slice of toast as if he wasn't in the process of discussing life or death. "That family breeds a ridiculous amount of children."

"So? We don't need a brood mare. We need an heir to continue the line."

Draco pushed his plate away from him. His mouth was dry, and he didn't think he could choke down another bite. This conversation was a mockery of how father-son conversations should go, and he was aware of the importance riding on its outcome. "I'm an only child."

"Of course. As am I and your grandfather as well. What's your point?" Lucius' voice was deceptively soft. It was the calm before the storm, the stillness prior to the lethal strike. Draco had seen him use it often.

"If something happened to me before this day, the line would be broken. There would be no Malfoy to inherit the Manor."

"You live, and now there will be an heir. This conversation is moot."

"It's not moot. We need a spare besides the heir. If someone goes after the child–"

"Now, that's absurd. Every true Malfoy is safe inside the Manor."

"I'm not talking about Order fools getting their hands on the child."

Draco's voice was icy cold, and Lucius leaned back in his chair in surprise. "You don't think very highly of your fellows, do you?"

"Not at all. The first and best lesson you taught me."

Lucius stilled. "Me?"

"Of course. Self preservation is rather important, don't you think?"

Lucius seemed to relax a fraction. "What does this have to do with your child?"

"I wouldn't put it past any other Death Eater to feign affection to enter the Manor. Then they could abduct or kill the child. Our esteem would suffer and there would be no heir to carry on the Malfoy line then."

"There are other witches," Lucius replied with dismissive wave of his hand.

Draco could feel his gut clench. He didn't _want_ another witch, but that was a whining statement that would do nothing but make Lucius sneer at him and doubt his motives. Draco merely nodded. "There are. But not all of them are acceptable, or have lines as pure and free of Muggle taint."

"There are plenty of witches that are appropriate."

"Why struggle when we have one already?" Draco pointed out.

"It's hardly a struggle," Lucius said, his voice as unctuous as ever. "That chit isn't worth this kind of discussion, Draco. We'll do what must be done. I'd rather put forth the effort to find someone appropriate when the time is needed."

"No further effort is needed. We have the heir, wait and then have the spare. Then there's no danger to the line dying out as thoroughly if a Death Eater gets jealous."

"You seem rather reluctant to kill her."

Draco shook his head. He didn't want Lucius doubting him now, didn't want his father to suspect any duplicity in him. "Not reluctant. I'm being practical. Why should I exert more effort to try to seduce someone else?"

"I'd never known you to complain of that before," Lucius replied dryly. "That's hardly something to complain about."

"I'd rather the straightforward path," Draco answered honestly. "It's a waste of time to double deal all the time. If I've got one child off of her, I might as well have a second. I'd feel safer if I knew the Malfoy line was secure."

"The Manor would only go to the first one."

"The eldest worthy Malfoy," Draco corrected. It was a small distinction, but was possibly an important one. Ginny had said that his father seemed abusive toward the Manor, and didn't appear to have its best interests at heart. Draco hadn't seen why that was so important, but she insisted that it was.

"You think yourself more worthy than me?" Lucius asked archly. The tone of his voice told Draco that he was close to going too far.

"Of course not. There's still much for me to learn before I can approach your ranking within the Death Eaters." Draco sipped his coffee, his hands still. His insides felt tremulous, and he was almost afraid that his father had lied and learned Legilimency after all.

Lucius rose, inclining his head. "We've no need for a spare, Draco. Any child here would be more than protected. The girl will be sacrificed in ten months' time."

Draco watched his father leave the room and closed his eyes tightly. He desperately felt like throwing up. The coffee was heavy in his stomach, the last piece of toast threatening to come back to haunt him.

_There has to be another way,_ he thought. _She said to ask someone for help, someone that no one would ever suspect. But who could that possibly be?_

The answer was startlingly clear. Ginny had been right; Draco would never have chosen to speak with any Order member willingly. If this situation wasn't so dire, he still wouldn't. But the fact was, Draco needed to move quickly, before anyone suspected him of treason against the Dark Lord. That was a crime punishable by death, and it usually was very public and very messy. They were done at the revels, where everyone could see the punishment for themselves. The Dark Lord didn't believe in wasting opportunities like that, and it instilled fear and obedience in all of the other Death Eaters.

Draco would have to move fast. He didn't know how long he had until Lucius grew wary of him or suspected.

***

It was appallingly easy to find Harry Potter.

Draco slid between the shadows on the wall, his face not much more than a ghostly pale mask of skin stretched tightly over bone. His heart thudded in his chest, the only part of him still alive. He had left his true heart behind; she had smiled and assured him that she had an exit strategy and that it would work when the time was right.

Harry sat at a desk, parchment rolls all around him. He had become an Auror of high rank, but he still was scandalously naive about the lengths Death Eaters would take to get to him. It didn't give him any satisfaction to place his knife against the back of Harry's neck. It didn't give him any satisfaction to see the Boy Wonder jump in surprise. The droplet of blood welling to the surface of Harry's skin wasn't any better.

"I hope you're winning the war," Draco intoned. His own voice sounded dead to his ears. He felt like a puppet being pulled by invisible strings.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked. That voice was strong, anger and energy laced into every syllable. Harry was the Boy Who Lived for a reason; he would never cave or crumble in the face of fear. Harry could be whatever he wanted to be.

"To make everything like it was before," Draco said, not moving a muscle. "I want my part in this war to end."

"You should have thought of that before you took the Dark Mark," Harry hissed.

"This is not a black and white world, Potter," Draco said, voice heavy with scorn. "Your teachers forgot to tell you that. You can't afford to believe in your side being the right one, or that you'll automatically beat us. They thrive on lies and fear, Potter. They live in the gray area between the ideals you think the world runs on. You won't find them all, because not all of them are at the surface to find."

"Why are you here?" Harry asked. He was preternaturally still, and Draco was starting to feel unnerved by it.

"I need your help."

"For what?"

Harry didn't sound wary at all. His time fighting the Death Eaters taught him nothing, when it should have read like an open book of hatred and fear. Harry should have learned something about caution and precaution, but it had been appallingly easy to find him.

"I have someone I need to save," Draco began, deliberately keeping it vague. "I need a place to go to where we won't be found."

"And why should I help you, Malfoy?" he asked, voice finally betraying the hate Harry felt for Draco. "Why should I do _anything_ to help you?"

"You were everyone's hero," Draco said, voice soft. "They talked about you for years before you finally showed up. You were the Boy Who Lived. You were the one that would make it right, and you would be the one to save us all. Did they ever tell you that? Did your simpering friends ever tell you why you were so revered?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry spat. He moved quickly, faster than Draco ever thought he could. Somehow Harry moved away from Draco's knife. The chair fell to the side, and Harry turned, catching Draco's wrist with both hands. Draco's wrist turned, and the knife fell from limp fingers to clatter on the floor.

"I never had to be a hero," Draco replied honestly. "I never had to be anything more than what they wanted me to be. And even then, I could never measure up." His voice was even, and his mask didn't falter. "I still can't be the son my father wants me to be."

"My heart bleeds," Harry sneered. Draco's wrist was bent further, Harry's grip tightening. "Why are you here, Malfoy? Did they send you to kill me?"

"I need to save someone before they kill her," Draco said. "I can't let them have her."

"Why should I care about your little girlfriend?" Harry sneered, lips twisting and becoming something ugly. Draco hadn't thought he could simmer in hate this way, but he'd been wrong before about a good many things. This was apparently one of them.

"She used to be one of yours," Draco replied mildly.

"What?" Harry's hand tightened even more around Draco's wrist. "Who? Tell me who it is, you wanker," Harry hissed. Draco thought he was about to break the bones in his wrist, and pushed the other man away from him. That was his wand hand, thank you very much. He would need that if he had to shoot spells in order to escape the Manor.

"Ginny Weasley."

Harry's face was ashen. "They said she was dead."

"They lied. Big surprise there," Draco answered, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. He watched as Harry looked him over, as if judging him. He was used to that, and used to being found wanting. He usually felt like a spectacular failure of a Death Eater; he had never been able to stomach torture, rape and death to such a degree that was acceptable to the others. He was used to the sidelong glances, the careful thoughts that perhaps he wasn't good enough to participate in their revels.

Maybe if they had thought him good enough, throwing them over for Ginny would have been so much harder to do.

"What did you do with her?" Harry yelled. He rushed forward, catching Draco by the front of his shirt and spinning him. Draco hit the wall, and for a frightening moment he saw stars. "Where is she? What did you do with her?"

"My father," Draco gasped. He felt himself sinking down to the floor, his black cloak billowing all around him. He blinked furiously, trying to get his eyes to focus. _Ginny... I'm broken, I'm alone and I failed you..._

Harry pointed his wand at Draco's forehead. "Start talking, Malfoy."

Apparently, the Boy Wonder could be intimidating if he put his mind to it. All that righteous anger, Draco supposed. It certainly wasn't because he seemed so imposing when hiding behind his sidekicks. Usually he looked pathetic and painful.

"I made a promise," Draco began slowly. He dropped his eyes to the floor. He was sprawled in such an ungainly pose, something that would have set his father's lip to curling in distaste. _A Malfoy should never degrade himself this way,_ his father's voice told him. Draco laughed bitterly, the edges of his spoiled love curling all around him. "It doesn't matter anyway, because they broke all of theirs. You forget how easy it is, how hollow they make you feel when you find out." He looked up at Harry's uncomprehending expression. "So I lied to them. It's sickening how my lies are believed, just like theirs were."

"What the hell are talking about, Malfoy?"

"I know you hate me for my part in the fall of Hogwarts." He watched as Harry's hand tightened around his wand. "That's all right, and I wouldn't expect any less of you. They promised me my parents' lives if I did it." Draco saw understanding dawn in Harry's expression, but there was no triumph there. "It's amazing how the truth gets in the way of hate, isn't it?" he drawled, sarcasm dripping heavily.

"Keep talking, Malfoy."

"He's trying to become immortal. Did you know that?"

Harry's face froze. "It... It shouldn't be possible."

"If he gets enough years from ritual subjects, he might as well be immortal." Draco pushed himself up from the floor slowly. Harry's wand didn't waver from an invisible point on Draco's forehead. Draco hadn't expected any less.

"What ritual is it?"

"Soul transfer," Draco replied shortly. "Every month they sacrifice a Pureblood in their prime, so that the Dark Lord can take the remaining years as his own."

"What does that have to do with Ginny?"

"She'll eventually be one of them. I need to save her before that happens."

If the situation wasn't so dire, Draco would have laughed at the play of emotions running across Harry's face. The other man was so transparent. It was amazing that he hadn't been found and killed yet. How had the other Death Eaters not killed him yet?

"Why should I believe you?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

Harry obviously didn't believe his tired voice and empty expression. "You want me to believe something that sounds pretty unbelievable."

"I know you think I'm a selfish bastard. Maybe I am. You've made my life completely miserable, not that you ever knew it. Who can compare to a legend? Who could ever be as good as the one that couldn't be killed?" A sliver of a smile ghosted Draco's lips. "I'm selfish. Of course I am. I only wanted to save my family. I only wanted them to live. You don't have any family. No parents, no girl, no child. You have nothing but the whole wide world worshiping you. I don't have that. I only have Ginny now."

"What are you talking about?"

"I wasn't supposed to love her," Draco admitted quietly. "I was supposed to use her, get my heir and then let her be sacrificed for the Dark Lord's immortality." He watched as comprehension sank in. "I wasn't supposed to want to save her."

"So now what?"

"This was her idea," Draco admitted. "She said no one would ever guess if I went to someone who would never help me." He shrugged somewhat helplessly. "I need to get her out of there. It's charmed so that alarms would sound if she ever tried to leave, and I don't even want to think about what the alarms would bring."

"How much time do you have?"

Draco almost didn't want to admit it. He wanted to keep Ginny like a luscious secret, something tucked into his heart so no one else could see. But he would have to share something with the Boy Wonder, if only to make him realize how important this really was.

"Nine months."

Harry blinked, then his mouth dropped open in shock. "You bastard!"

"I didn't rape her, you moron!" Draco snapped, pushing Harry backward. "We both wanted it," he said softly. "It's real enough, even if it started out in a lie."

Harry finally dropped his wand arm and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. "I don't even want to picture this."

"Then don't. I just need a place where we can go and hide."

He breathed a heavy sigh. "I know a place where they'd never find you. It's Unplottable, and it's been Order property for some time."

"You'd have someone watch over us," Draco said dully.

"Well, I certainly won't leave her alone!"

_You did, though,_ Draco wanted to say. _I was her first, not you. You weren't able to take anything she was willing to offer then._

He remained silent. He _needed_ the bastard.

"Can you return here tomorrow?"

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He might say something he'd regret, something that would ruin the only chance Ginny had.

"I'll have a Portkey ready for you by tomorrow. Don't be followed."

When Draco recounted the story for Ginny later, he didn't keep the frustration from his voice. He had to kowtow to the Boy Who Lived, the one that had made him feel so inferior growing up. He knew he could never compare to the favored son of the Wizarding World.

Ginny giggled, and Draco's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, Draco. I wouldn't be surprised if something went wrong with his plan. Since when did anything about us go the way it should? Why should this?" She kissed him deeply, tongue tracing the inside of his lip. "But if his Portkey works, the Manor will let us go."

He didn't even ask her how she was so certain. He allowed her to pull him down to her bed, and watched as she eyed him hungrily. "It'll work if you want it to," she said softly, running her hands along his rib cage.

"I want it to," he murmured.

"Then it'll work," Ginny promised. She smiled and straddled his waist. She unbuckled his belt and opened the front of his pants.

Her hands were warm as they stroked him, and Draco closed his eyes. He lost himself to the sensation of her hands over his cock. She stroked him, gently at first, then harder as he started to lose his breath. Draco came with a soft cry, falling back against the bed.

"We should have a daughter," Ginny murmured. "They'd hate that, wouldn't they?"

"The spells are set to give us a son."

"Pft. I'm sure I could probably change it around if I wanted to." She grinned at him and stretched out over his frame. "Either way, I'll be around to have another one."

"Or two," Draco murmured, stroking her hair.

"Or three?" she asked teasingly. "Now who's getting greedy?"

He laughed. "You really think we can survive this? Do you think it'll work?"

"I know it will."

He could only pray that she was right.

***  
***


	5. Escape

Ginny was left behind for the next Death Eater Revel. There was a large distance between the Apparition area and the actual Revel, so carriages were ferrying the Death Eaters. Draco sat across from his father, his face a mask of cool civility. His insides roiled with anticipation. He had come back from his meeting with Harry Potter just in time to make it to the Revel. The portkey was tucked into his belt buckle, and he didn't trust leaving it behind in the Manor.

"I've been thinking about our singular problem," Lucius began.

"What problem?" Draco asked, eyebrow arching.

"The Muggle lover's daughter. She seems to prey upon your mind."

"My concern is for the Malfoy line."

Lucius' eyes seemed to shine with an unholy light. "Is that all? Or do you whisper endearments into her ear as you're pounding into her?"

"If a girl needs the proper incentive, what of it? The heir is sired, and will arrive in due time. I still hold concerns if it's an only child as we are. But then, her line is so grossly fertile that there may be twins. If so, I don't have to worry about the spare."

Lucius sat back in his carriage, almost appeased. "Ah. So you've put some measure of thought into this endeavor."

"Of course. I want to see the Malfoy name continue."

"There have been experiments," Lucius began, voice soft and sinuous. "Bella was placed in charge of it. I'm sure you can imagine her joy."

"What kind of experiments?" Draco asked, almost wary. None of his concern showed in his voice; he knew better than that by now.

"Transporting a fetus from one chit to another. She's worked on Muggle filth, of course. But so far, the results seem promising."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Truly? How far has she gone?"

"After some modifications, the child survived the transfer. The donor mother did not, of course. There was no care taken for her survival."

"And the recipient? What of her?"

"Well, the procedure needs further testing and work," Lucius replied, voice clipped in annoyance. "I'm surprised she hasn't mentioned the testing to you."

"It's not truly completed, then. Bella would never want to discuss something that wasn't perfected yet. And even then, there might be an age limit to the transfer. It might not work when the child isn't even fully formed."

"There is that," Lucius conceded. He looked out of the carriage windows, and saw that they were swiftly approaching the Revel area. "But she does continue with her experiments. She's quite confident that she can create something more than acceptable for us. If it works, then we won't have need of any Muggle loving filth to pollute our home. We can transfer the child to a proper host. If it isn't developed in time, there's always the house elves to serve as nannies. You can find some other chit for a spare."

"If it's necessary," Draco said in a low tone.

"That twin thing? We can find out soon enough when a mediwitch comes to the Manor to make an evaluation. The witch can tell us exactly what develops and when the due date will be. Then we can make adjustments in her stay."

_Did you ever care for Mum?_ Draco wanted to ask, looking at his father's chiseled features. He didn't seem to regret Narcissa's sacrifice. He didn't seem to regret anything at all. Draco knew he regretted having to be there, having to see the light in his mother's eyes die slowly. He regretted having to watch the blood collect in a golden goblet, and regretted having played a part in her death, however small. That was probably the first moment that he knew he couldn't continue as a Death Eater. It wasn't the ideology or the torture necessarily, though it was true that he didn't quite have the stomach for it. But some things were absolutely sacred, and he couldn't stand for them to be violated.

"When is the appointment?" Draco asked smoothly.

"Sometime tomorrow afternoon," Lucius replied with a negligent shrug. "It doesn't matter about the time in any case."

"I wanted to be there," Draco murmured, inclining his head. "I'd like to know for sure if it's a son."

"Of course it's a son!" Lucius snapped. "I laid those spells myself."

_I laid the foundations,_ Draco thought, tamping down on his anger. There was no outward sign of his inner turmoil. His Aunt Bellatrix had taught him too well. _And already, I had second thoughts about what we were doing. Already, I didn't think I could kill her. I could have damaged the foundations without knowing it. I could have changed things._

"I'd like to be absolutely sure before I consider it done."

Lucius stared at his son, whose tone was one of quiet determination. He so rarely heard it nowadays, and he had thought that perhaps his son was a poor Death Eater. But it was probably just a side effect of his former training, Lucius figured. He no longer displayed any kind of emotion, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He had taken so well to Bellatrix's training that even she had no idea what he was thinking, and Draco would quietly rebuff her advances into his mind. Lucius had no illusions that his son could possibly be a great Death Eater. He wasn't sure if Draco's heart was really in it, if he held true faith for their cause.

"Do you doubt my skills?"

Draco looked up at the dangerous undertone in his father's words. "I doubt nothing. But I don't like to move unless I know for certain the lay of the land. You taught me that. Never act without being absolutely certain of the outcome beforehand."

Lucius eased somewhat. "I did tell you that. I hadn't thought you were listening at the time." He looked at his son, really _looked,_ and realized that he didn't know what kind of a man his son was. Lucius had ordered Draco about, and he followed direction. But Lucius had no idea where Draco's buttons truly were, and what he was willing to fight for.

"I've always been listening. I didn't always understand the lessons at the time, but I was always listening. I find that I truly understand what you meant now, Father. And now that I understand, the lessons mean that much more to me."

Lucius smiled at his son as the carriage came to a stop. "You are a worthy addition to the Malfoy line, Draco. Never forget that."

Draco's smile was small and sharp, as if he was a creature with edged teeth. Lucius almost blinked in surprise, but the image faded.

"Thank you, Father. I will always remember that."

***

Ginny was dreaming. It was winding and twisting, dark corridors that led nowhere. There were faint, wispy figures at the edges of her vision, figures that were no more than vague outlines suggesting the shape of people. _Do I know you?_ she wanted to ask them. _What do you mean to me? Who are you? Did you know how I used to be?_

"Ginny!"

Noises to her left, a clatter of feet running to her. The vague shapes faded like wisps of smoke, disappearing into the ether of the dark corridors.

_Where are you going? Who were you?_ she wanted to ask. Somehow her lips refused to move, and she couldn't seem to make her arms or legs move. _Why can't I move? What's wrong with me? Why can't I remember anything?_

"Ginny!"

She was shaking now, the earth shifting beneath her unsteady feet. It turned into sand, pooling around her and sinking below an invisible horizon. It threated to pull her down with it, to drown her in silence and empty memory. She struggled, her legs suddenly able to move once again. There had to be time to escape, surely there was time to escape. Surely there was the ability to outrun the maelstrom beginning to form around her.

"Ginny! Wake up!"

She shot awake, eyes snapping open. Her forehead connected with Draco's, and they both touched their heads as they moaned a bit in pain. "Ow," Ginny murmured, rubbing her forehead. "That hurt. Couldn't you wake me up kinder?"

"Get dressed," Draco said, eyes alone betraying his panic. "Quickly. You can't take anything with you. Leave the rest behind."

She dressed quickly, choosing an outfit that might easily fade into the background. He nodded his approval at her choice and handed her a small bag. "I've already packed for you."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe," he replied, lips snapping shut. His entire body thrummed with anxiety, and she reached out to touch his arm. "We don't have time. We're running out of time."

"We have nine months..."

"Not any longer. They're working on spells... They mean to get rid of you sooner if they can. We have to go _now."_

Ginny blinked, then nodded slowly. She slung the bag across her torso, keeping both of her arms free for movement. "In that case, I know a way out of here."

"What are you talking about? You can't leave the Manor or its grounds." Draco held something in his fist. "This Portkey is our only way out."

"There's a way to hide our exit," Ginny began slowly. "That way they won't be able to tell how long we've been gone. They won't know when to look."

Draco blinked in surprise. "That's not possible, not with the wards my father set up."

"The Manor will help us," Ginny said with confidence. She smiled and took Draco's free hand. "I can lead the way. I know where to go." Her smile grew a shade flirtatious. "Trust me."

He had asked her to trust him, and she had. It was his turn now.

Draco nodded, and she took off at a run.

He lost track of the twisting hallways she ran down. He hadn't ever been in the wings she took them through, and couldn't recognize any of the dusty furniture. The portraits had all been covered over with oilcloth long before, and Draco had no idea who might have been there. "I've never been down here," he said in amazement. "How did you find this place?"

"It's what I do all day to amuse myself. I explored the Manor, and it showed me all sorts of nice places to be. When this is all over, I'd like to come back someday."

Fear coiled in his belly, sharp and painful. _If there is a someday..._

She led him to a hidden staircase embedded in the wall. From there, they exited onto the fourth floor. Draco could see the sun begin to rise over the horizon through the windows. The mediwitch would be by in the early afternoon. They had hours to make their escape, and Draco had no illusions about his father's ability to track them. He didn't trust Potter's assurance that the Portkey brought them somewhere Unplottable. How could the git get his hands on property like that? Any place that was Unplottable was old and steeped in magic, likely passed down through hundreds of years and beset with something akin to intelligence. Usually it was old homesteads, where the property would be charged to protect the owners. Potter had been hidden in the Muggle world; if he had access to an Unplottable place, he likely would have grown up there instead.

Ginny led him to a deserted bedroom and opened up the closet door. There was a ladder of a sort, and a moveable panel above them. "The attic's dark, but you have your wand. You should be able to light your way in there."

Draco climbed up first, then illuminated the tip of his wand. He looked down the attic entry and saw Ginny shut the closet door tightly, then climb up the ladder. Once she was in the attic, she replaced the panel firmly, and flipped a catch that Draco hadn't noticed was there. It was old and rusted, and wouldn't likely last for more than a pound or two.

Draco looked around the attics. "I've never been up here before."

"Lots of stuff are in boxes up here. I think they're your ancestors' things. Oh!" Ginny clapped her hands in excitement. "Let me show you the box of Astra's pictures before we go. It's right over there, next to your mother's things..."

She led him to another part of the attic, towering piles of named boxes on either side of them. He saw other splinters of attic fading away into the darkness, and wonderedif other named boxes were stacked up in there as well. Ginny led him with absolutely surety, and soon enough they were standing in front of one small box labeled "Astra Malfoy" and several large boxes labeled "Narcissa Malfoy." Draco's blood froze at the sight of the boxes. It seemed to empty and final somehow, even though he had watched his mother die.

Ginny watched Draco trace his mother's name on a box. He was preoccupied, so she took a few photos of Astra and tucked them away in her bag. She knew that she would like to return someday, but knew it could never happen while Lucius was alive.

"I wonder where Mum's jewelry is," Draco murmured.

They both jumped back as the boxes shifted themselves. One smaller box gently drifted down to the floor in front of them. Ginny held Draco's lit wand aloft as the box's top opened beneath his hands. There were several small jewelry boxes, and one large one that resembled a small dresser. There were several small cardboard boxes imprinted with the names of jewelry stores as well. Not having a single jewel of her own, Ginny's eyes widened at the casual display of wealth.

"Where is it..." Draco muttered under his breath. Finally, he found what he was looking for. He turned to Ginny and looked faintly ill. "Ginny, I know we said that you're my fiancee, and that we've been acting like it ever since you woke up. But I want it to matter. I want it to mean something, and I want it to be real." Without another word, Draco opened the small box. Light sparkled off of the diamond ring in the small box, and Ginny's mouth fell open. "This was my Mum's wedding ring. For better or for worse, she was married to my father, and she gave her all to our family. She did everything she could to help us." Draco's voice cracked slightly. "Ginevra Weasley, would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Ginny's breath caught in her throat. It didn't matter what name he called her by, however strange and alien it felt. She could feel the emotion in his words, the slight tremor in his hands. She knew how he felt, that their sham relationship had become all too real.

"I would love to," Ginny whispered, her own voice breaking.

The floorboards seemed to shift slightly beneath them as Draco slid the ring on her finger. He put the empty box inside the larger collection, and the box sealed itself and disappeared back into the stacks of Narcissa's belongings.

"What was that?" Draco asked, brow furrowed. "Do they know we're gone already?"

Ginny shook her head, smiling through her watery eyes. "The Manor approves of us. I think it would like us to come back when it's safe."

There was another shift beneath them, almost like an assent.

"When it's safe," Draco promised. "This is my home, too."

"We'll have a dozen children," Ginny said impulsively, laughing as Draco pulled a face. "Okay. Maybe not a dozen. But at least three."

Draco linked fingers with hers. "As many as we can," he promised.

The floorboards seemed to make a happy little shiver beneath their feet.

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object covered in a rough cloth. "What's that?" Ginny asked, peering at it. She used Draco's wand to push the edges of cloth aside, revealing a small perfume bottle. "That's a gift?"

"Of sorts," Draco murmured. He locked eyes with her. "It's our Portkey out of here. Hold on to me tightly, all right?" Her hand squeezed his even harder, and her grip tightened on his wand. "All right. Here we go."

He tossed the small bottle about a foot in the air. The rough cloth fell from it, and with his Seeker-fast reflexes, he caught the bottle on its downward arc.

There was a sickening pulling sensation behind their belly buttons, and then the feel of being pulled through time and space.

They were gone before the cloth hit the attic floor.

***

Ginny opened her eyes amid screams and chaos. That was hardly an auspicious beginning.

They were in a grand parlor more baroque than elegant, and there was a man with black hair, three men with red hair and a girl with brown frizzy hair standing around. They all had wands pointed at Draco, who was protectively standing in front of Ginny. The screams coalesced into words, and Ginny realized they were shouting at Draco, accusing him of hurting her and warping her mind into something depraved.

Ginny pushed her way in front of Draco, jaw clenched. _"Shut up!"_ The sound of silence made her ears ring. All eyes turned to her, mouths falling. "You leave him alone," she hissed, eyes narrowing. "Don't you _dare_ say anything."

"Ginny?" the brunette said, voice wavering and near tears.

"Leave him alone," she warned. She could feel Draco's hand on her hip, his torso pressed against her back. His warmth bled into her hollow core, and his presence gave her support. These faces should have been familiar, she knew. Their expressions told her so.

"Gin? What's he done to you?" the youngest redhead asked, coming forward. "How could you look at us like this?"

"Who are you?" she asked.

His face turned purple with rage, and he headed forward. His wand was pointed straight at Draco's head. "You bastard!"

One of the twins grasped him and placed a hand over the man's mouth. The man struggled as the other twin came forward almost apologetically. "You've got to forgive our ickle Ronniekins. His temper gets away from him. You see, it's been two months. We all thought you were dead," he explained. He smiled sadly at Ginny, but she obviously wasn't very convinced by it. He gave a sad shrug. "We were afraid that they've killed you."

"Who are you?" she asked again.

"I'm George, that's Fred. You know Ron. That's Harry and Hermione over there." He held his hands open and aloft. "We're your family, Ginny. We've been worried about you."

There was a twitch in Draco's fingers at her waist. She immediately knew that George was telling the truth, but her memory was nothing but a gaping hole. "I don't remember," Ginny whispered, looking at him imploringly. "I don't."

George looked at Draco as Fred kept Ron restrained. "What happened?"

"Obliviate totalis," Draco replied wearily. "My father had plans that I'm not willing to cooperate with anymore."

Ginny could feel his fingers tighten on her hip, the only movement betraying his anxiety. She dropped a hand to cover his protectively. "Whatever else you think, I'm not hurt," she told Ron, who was still straining against Fred's grip. "I wasn't ever hurt."

"We're going to need to talk," Hermione said quietly, her lips tight with worry. Harry was standing beside her, eyeing the couple silently. Ginny found his stare the most intense and the most uncomfortable.

Ginny's fingers tightened around Draco's. "Not now," she said softly. "Please."

"They're going to want to ask lots of embarrassing questions," Draco murmured into Ginny's ear softly. She could tell he didn't trust anyone in the room.

"We'll talk over breakfast," Hermione suggested, a strained smile on her face. Her eyes didn't stray far from Draco's head beside Ginny's. "We have a lot to catch up on."

Draco pressed his lips to the curve of Ginny's skull behind her ear. "You go on, Ginny. I have to make more arrangements for us."

"What do you mean?" she asked, whirling around to face him. She searched his solemn face with an edge of desperation. "But we got away!"

He shook his head and took her hands in his. "Not how it counts. Not if we ever plan to leave here and return to the Manor."

"But..."

"I have to make sure that Father didn't have contingency plans. I have to make my own."

"Don't leave me," she said, barely above a whisper.

Draco pressed a kiss to her forehead, hands tightening around hers. "I have to keep you safe. Just a few more meetings, and it should be done."

Ginny watched as he pulled away from her. He looked at Harry briefly, his expression unreadable even to her, and then he took another Portkey from his pocket and disappeared.

She tried not to feel as if her heart was breaking.

***

Draco arrived at the predetermined Portkey point, then from there walked toward the fortress where Voldemort was staying. It wasn't some large or imposing edifice of stone being patrolled by an army of Dementors, but a winding catacomb of tunnels carved into a cliff face. Draco didn't even know which country they were in, but the cliffs were isolated and difficult to get to, even if someone knew where they were hiding.

He was shown into a large audience chamber. He kept the various layers of Occlumency barriers in place; he had no doubts about Voldemort's ability to pierce the strongest of barriers. But carefully chosen truths and half truths would keep him from digging any farther than the first layer or two. At least, he hoped Voldemort wouldn't go farther.

"Malfoy the younger," Voldemort said, his voice a low hiss across the chamber. "Do come closer. You requested an urgent audience."

Draco knelt before Voldemort, looking at the floor. _Blonde hair streaming and empty eyes staring, blood dripping down the black marble. Black marble, white marble, gray. Black marble, white marble, gray..._

"You may stand," Voldemort said graciously. Draco stood and didn't meet his eyes.

"You're like a second father," Draco began. His Dark Mark throbbed almost painfully, and the memory of his initiation flitted across his outer barriers. "I need your advice."

Voldemort frowned, red eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "I would not wish for you to think that I'm some kind of advisor for children."

Draco looked up. "This directly impacts you, my lord. I just... It has to do with my father, and I'm not sure what I should do or where my duty lies."

Now Voldemort looked interested. Draco could feel him begin to slide through his mind, reaching the first barrier. The memory of the Dark Mark wound around an image of his father, and Voldemort's Legilimency skills slid around the barrier and into a memory of Lucius relating his plans for Ginny Weasley.

"Go on," Voldemort urged, retreating for the moment.

"My father came upon Ginny Weasley during a raid. He erased her memory, and planned to use her to birth my heir." Draco swallowed nervously. "I don't agree with the terminal point within his plan."

"Oh?" Draco could feel Voldemort push past the first barrier in his mind. Here were memories of kissing Ginny, of raids with his father, past torture sessions.

"My father wishes to offer her to your rituals after my heir is born. I think this is premature. The next generation is vital to our continued success. Too many of us are dying, and once we win this war, it's up to the children to be indoctrinated properly and to continue with the work we have begun. I don't think a single child is enough. Even if her family's fertility lets her breed twins, I'm afraid that the next generation will be too small to sustain our interests."

Voldemort retreated from Draco's mind, and he seemed pleased. "You have the mind of a strategist," he murmured. He steepled his fingers in front of him and looked at Draco thoughtfully. "Your concern and foresight is a tribute to your devotion. It certainly is a valid and important point you bring up. Too little of my followers think of the aftermath of war, of the bright world we will have."

Draco nearly stepped back when Voldemort got up from his gilded chair and rapidly floated to meet Draco's eyes. He managed to hold his ground and resist the urge to try a little Legilimency of his own. It would be insulting and provoking, doing nothing but insuring his own death. He met Voldemort's gaze without flinching, the perfect picture of a devoted Death Eater.

"She will belong to me eventually," Voldemort said, the s's drawn out in hisses.

_Blonde hair and empty eyes, blood dripping down the black marble. Black marble, white marble, gray. Black marble, white marble, gray..._

"Of course."

Voldemort's lips pulled back in a rictus grin that reminded Draco of a bared skull. He didn't move, didn't think, didn't blink. He was floating in emptiness, waiting for the signal that it was safe to think again.

"A few years would be enough to insure your line to proper satisfaction. I can give you that much leeway," Voldemort said. "Do not worry about Lucius, young Malfoy. He belongs to me as much as you do, and I have plans for him."

Draco repressed the shiver threatening to roll down his spine and nodded his head. "I thank you, my lord."

"She pleases you, does she not?"

Draco froze, his mind caught and blank. Voldemort didn't press into his consciousness, and Draco could only nod numbly. "She... She's a blank slate. The taint of her Muggle loving ways are gone, and she's only too eager to be my bride. She can be paraded before the opposing forces, a sign that we control more than they think."

"It might demoralize them," Voldemort added, pleased with Draco's explanation.

He remembered the feel of her lips against his, her hands on his skin and the scent of her hair as she lay next to him in bed. He didn't want to see her eyes open and glassy, empty of life. He didn't want to see her on the altar, blood running into the goblet.

"We would strike a blow against their pride," Draco replied in a musing tone. "Perhaps if they see her large with my child, looking as if she had joined us..."

Voldemort laughed. "Oh, yes. Lucius would not have thought of such things. No, he doesn't have the ability that you have."

_Fiery red hair and empty eyes, blood dripping down the black marble. Black marble, white marble, gray. Black marble, white marble, gray..._

Draco inclined his head slowly. "How do I deal with my father, my lord?"

Voldemort looked at him steadily, expecting him to explain himself. When no explanation was forthcoming, Draco could feel him try to press into his mind again. Draco thought of the Manor attic, Ginny's hand in his. He thought of the boxes of dead Malfoy belongings, the empty stretches of dark attic. Draco hoped that Voldemort thought that he had hidden Ginny in the attics of Malfoy Manor.

"She's safe, is she not?" Voldemort asked, his voice almost gentle for once.

Pathetically relieved, Draco nodded. "It's just that I don't know how to discuss this, when my father feels my concerns have no merit."

"I will discuss this with Lucius. I will end the matter. Take your bride and spawn a generation of faithful followers."

"Yes, my lord," Draco murmured.

Somehow he left the audience chamber. He was in a daze, and couldn't recall leaving the fortress or arriving at a safe distance. He used the last Portkey he had been given; Harry had reluctantly condescended to give him two once he explained his plan to save Ginny's life. The wheels were in motion now, and everything would unfold in time.

Ginny saw him right away. She took in the glazed expression, the blank stare. Draco didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings, and didn't see Ron's scowls or Hermione's knotted brows. He didn't see the edge of disgust in Harry's expression. Draco didn't seem to see much of anything until Ginny came into view. Even then, he looked numb. She dragged him into the parlor and sat him down. She grasped his face in her hands, and she could feel the fine tremors running throughout his entire body.

"What happened?" she asked, voice gentle. Her thumb ran over the lower edge of his lip, tracing it, feeling the trembling begin.

"I've killed him," Draco replied numbly. "I didn't... He's going to kill him. He's going to kill him and it's the only way to keep you safe. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to kill him. It wasn't supposed to work that way."

Ginny gathered him up into her arms, and he tucked his face into the crook of her neck. She could feel the shudders begin to wrack his body, and he held onto her desperately. Ginny rocked him gently, murmuring next to his ear. "Whatever lies beyond this will come," she whispered softly. No one else could hear her. "We don't know that. We don't. It's a little later on, and it's something we'll deal with together."

"I've killed him," he whispered against her skin. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want to, not really. I didn't think this would happen..."

"Regardless of what happens, he's your father. He'll always be your father. The future doesn't scare me. You don't _know_ that's what will happen. Maybe it won't.

"Nothing's like before," he said, his voice so soft that she had to strain to hear him.

"No. But we've still got each other. We've escaped. We can do this, Draco," Ginny whispered, her lips nearly pressed against his neck. "We can do this. We're in this together, for better or for worse, forever."

He pulled back, his eyes searching her face. Finally, he nodded. "You're right."

She grinned at him almost playfully. It was incongruous given the situation, but the smile warmed Draco's frozen blood. "Of course, silly. Now, I think you need to rest. It's a trying day if you have to outwit a Dark Lord."

Draco could feel the hysterical laughter bubble up and out of his lips. He never would have known her, never would have had her loving spirit if this fiasco of a plan hadn't been concocted. Whatever higher power in the universe existed must have thought he was worthy of such a gift, even if he wasn't sure himself.

He felt like the living dead she led him upstairs. He could ignore the stares of the others, the glares from Ron that would have boiled the skin off of lesser men. Draco had eyes only for Ginny, her hair like a beacon in his narrow vision. She tucked him into the bed of the room that they would share, and she stroked his hair gently.

"We've escaped," she said softly. "We're going to be okay, no matter what happens. I trust in you, and you trust in me. We'll be okay."

When Ginny kissed him, Draco could believe it. He felt as if he was the one waking from a dream, as if he was fully coming awake for the first time. Damn the rest of the Order members if they dared complain.

His life before now had been utter hell, and becoming a spy for the Order would be sheer purgatory. But coming home to Ginny would be heaven, and he was willing to pay any price for that precious gift.

 

The End


End file.
